


you're like the parts of my soul I didn't know existed

by philthestone



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Gen, random shop owner ladies are generally very nosy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-20
Updated: 2014-07-20
Packaged: 2018-02-09 15:11:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 997
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1987560
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/philthestone/pseuds/philthestone
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She's not sure at what point exactly she goes from only one female sibling to having five crazy brothers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	you're like the parts of my soul I didn't know existed

**Author's Note:**

> THIS IS A DISCLAIMER  
> someone mentioned in the last fic that Nyota has a lot more brothers than just Jim - and, fascinatingly enough, I'd already written a fic about that. Reviews are cookies <3

The woman across the counter at the cluttered pottery shop was old for a Terran, her hair soft and white, curling around her ears and framing her round face, the wrinkles lining her face each telling a story. Nyota pushed her purchase over the polished counter and reached for her purse, glancing the messy space behind the counter. Colourful scarves hung from the wall like drapes, and faded holos of smiling faces perched on crooked shelves.

“Is that all for today, dear?”

“Yes, thank you,” responded Nyota, smiling warmly at the lady, who dimpled sweetly and took the painted vase from its spot on the counter to wrap it.

“This is a nice find,” was the comment as the brown paper was folded over the vase’s smooth sides. “Vulcan, isn’t it? Yes, I recognize the design. Got it off a Ferengi dealer on Delta.” Her eyes glittered. “You have good taste, my dear.”

“Oh, it’s not for me,” said Nyota absently, still examining the decorations on the back wall.

“Oh?” said the lady, raising an eyebrow. “It must be for someone awfully important, considering the credits you’re spending.”

Nyota blushed, unused to such a forthright attitude from anyone but her the people closest to her. “It’s for a friend.” And then, to cover her (perhaps unnecessary) embarrassment: “ I like your shop.”

“Why, thank you,” said the woman, fitting the vase carefully into a bag. “I don’t often get customers as lovely as yourself, you know. Are you from around here?”

“I’m on shore leave,” said the young woman, pushing a strand of her long dark hair behind her ear. “We’ve another three days here before we depart from space dock again.”

“Oh! So you’re a Starfleet girl, then,” said the woman cheerily, handing Nyota the bagged vase. “Me, I’ve never much liked going out into the black. Too many unknown variables. And I like sticking close to my family, you know.”

Nyota smiled, glancing again at the holos lined up on the back wall. “Yes – I was looking at your pictures. Is that your brother?”

The woman reached back and picked a particularly faded holo from off the crooked shelf, bringing it forward so that they could both see the smiling faces of a much younger version of herself and another man with eyes as sparkling and bright as her own.

“He was my best friend,” explained the shop owner, her smile a little bittersweet. But it was replaced with a dry chuckle a moment later, the crow’s feet around the woman’s eyes becoming more prominent. “He was also the biggest pain in the ass I’ve ever met.”

“I know the feeling,” Nyota muttered as she slung her purse over her shoulder. The woman quirked an eyebrow.

“Do you have a brother too, then?”

It was a question she had often been asked in the past. Four years ago, her answer would not have been the same.

“I have five,” she replied without hesitation, watching amusedly as the woman’s eyes grew wide in astonishment. She grinned.

“Five! And I thought _I_ had it rough! It must be terribly taxing, musn’t it? What’s it like?”

This time, she did hesitate, glancing again at the holo held so tightly in the shop owner’s aged hands. She could tell her, Nyota thought. She could say the youngest was eighteen and the oldest was in his forties. Could say that they were the bravest, most wonderful people she had ever met, that she loved them wholly and completely, and that she would do anything to keep them safe.

She could say that one of them was like the sun, warm and bright and fierce, ridiculous and protective and her best friend. She could say that one of them maybe drank too much, maybe cared a bit too much too, but was always there for her in a way that no one else was; her rock. She could talk about how one dreamed of musketeers and samurai, who was secretly the funniest guy she’d ever known and who insisted on giving her exotic potted plants every Valentine’s Day anonymously. She could talk about one who was brilliant in every sense of the word, who taught her how to swear in Russian and could drink her under the table any day of the week. She could talk about how one of them (or was it all of them?) had questionable sanity and would probably marry a starship if he could, who offered her good strong drinks when she needed them and always provided a shoulder to lean on.

She could show her the holo tucked away in her purse, the one with the laughing, smiling faces and her legs dangling awkwardly in the air as she was raised over two strong shoulders, the words _“happy birthday Uhura!”_ forming on everyone’s lips.

Instead, Nyota rolled her eyes and gripped the vase more tightly.

“Oh, you know how they are – brothers are brothers.”

“Don’t I know it,” laughed the older woman, slipping her own holo into her shirt pocket. “But _five_ – if you don’t mind me saying, it must have be quite a hassle getting a boyfriend.” She glanced pointedly at the vase tucked securely under Nyota’s arm. This time, she did not blush, but turned to go, and, rather than be irritated by the woman's presumption, a smile formed unbidden on her lips. She thought of lengthy conversations on Romulan syntax in the too-clean office and seemingly endless guesses at her first name happening simultaneously in what seemed to be two separate universes; running frantically through the belly of a ship, secret kisses in a turbolift, volcanic ash clouding the little shuttle as the helmsman yelled at her frantically to press that button right there! She remembered gripping two pairs of hands in a hospital room, one warmer than was natural and the other unnervingly cold.

“Oh, that’s simple,” she said, pausing at the door. “I got the boyfriend before I got the brothers.”


End file.
